Officer Cage
8/8/08
By Bill Ward
Sights and sites in Beijing:
You have to hand it to the BOCOG boys…they’ve put some work into the city, and the people are pitching in. Everywhere you travel, there are battalions of people planting flowers, sweeping streets, hanging banners, attempting to put a bike tire stripe down the middle of your back. (note to self: look both ways before stepping into the bike lanes along most sidewalks. The grannies on a cruiser bike will put you into the wall faster than a NASCAR driver one win away from the Nextel Cup. They stop or swerve for no man…especially if he‘s a foreign tourist.
Nearly every street corner is populated by a gaggle of “Tourist Volunteers” who are there to answer any and every question visitors may have. You can identify them by their blue and white shirt uniforms and their tendency to turn every inquiry into a 10 person tag team event. They all want to help so badly, yet sometimes--even with a simple query like “where’s the nearest subway station?”--they can’t come to a consensus amongst themselves. But they get an “A” for effort.
There are security officers everywhere. Most prominent are what appear to be para-military type men in pressed green uniforms with official looking caps. They stand rigidly at attention, arms held tightly at their sides, white-gloved palms turned outside. Their posture looks like it would be supremely uncomfortable after about 5 minutes. I’m not sure what their function is. They are unarmed, appear to not even have radios, and they are stationed in the oddest places…mid street…out on a box along a free way a mile from any exit ramp…middle of a greenbelt.
But the oddest officer deployment is the one I call Officer Cage. There are several spots where there is a long row of high metal security fencing obscuring entire blocks of buildings. In front of the fencing is another row of Cyclone style wire fencing. In between is about a 3 foot wide dirt path leading nowhere. Each end is blocked; it’s not a pedestrian route. But in the middle, standing on a 16 x 16 inch piece of concrete, you’ll find Officer Cage. All day long, he stands locked in between the two rows of wire, stiffly at attention, eyes straight forward. One can only imagine the scene at the local barracks when assignments are handed out each morning.
Officer 1: I’m guarding the Forbidden City, post 103!
Others: (approvingly) ooooh!
Office 2. I’ve got the main gate at the Bird’s Nest!
Others: (approvingly) ahhhhh!
Officer 3. I’ve got Cage Duty post 1,345 at Heung Road.
Others: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
One wonders what indiscretion one has to commit to be assigned Cage Duty.
The stern demeanor of the Officer Corps pales in comparison to a Bastion of Authority I’ve spotted three days running now at the big shopping center near my apartment unit: The Stick Lady. I have no idea what this grandmother’s function might be. Back and forth she strides the sidewalk alongside the mall like a 4 foot 5 inch Colossus of Coercion, armed with a ferocious frown and a 32 inch long gnarled stick, exuding a “behave or else” vibe that would send a hardened inner city parochial school nun and her knuckle-busting ruler scurrying for cover (or for a video camera, so she could record some useful mannerisms.)
I’ve wanted to stop and observe exactly what it is the Stick Lady is prowling the sidewalk to root out and correct, but I’m too afraid loitering laowais (old foreigners) might be just what she’s looking for.